* * * * * Clarence Filmore had hoped that the report of his pistol-shots would reach Deadwood. If so, his wishes were fulfilled. The reports reached the barracks above Deadwood just as a horseman galloped up the hill--Major R----, just in from a carouse down at the "Met." "Halloo!" he shouted, loudly. "To horse! there is trouble in the gorge. The Sioux, under Sitting Bull, are upon us!" As the major's word was law at the barracks, in very short order the garrison was aroused, and headed by the major in person, a cavalcade of sleepy soldiers swept down the gorge toward the place whence had come the firing. Wildly around the abrupt bend they dashed with yells of anticipated victory: then there was a frightful collision between the incoming stage and the outgoing cavalry; the shrieks and screams of horses, the curses and yells of wounded men; and a general pandemonium ensued. The coach, passengers, horses and all was upset, and went rolling down a steep embankment. Major R---- was precipitated headlong over the embankment, and in his downward flight probably saw more than one soaring comet. He struck head-first in a muddy run, and a sorrier-looking officer of the U.S.A. was never before seen in the Black Hills as he emerged from his bath, than the major. His ridiculous appearance went so far as to stay the general torrent of blasphemy and turn it into a channel of boisterous laughter. No delay was made in putting things ship-shape again, and ere morning dawned Deadwood beheld the returned soldiers and wrecked stage with its sullen passengers within its precincts. Dick and his men rode rapidly down the canyon, the two prisoners bringing up the rear under the escort of two masked guards. These guards were brothers and Spanish-Mexicans at that. The elder Filmore, a keen student of character, was not long in making out these Spaniards' true character, nor did their greedy glances toward his and his son's diamonds escape him. "We want to get free!" he at last whispered, when none of those ahead were glancing back. "You will each receive a cool five hundred apiece if you will set us at liberty." The two road-agents exchanged glances. "It's a bargain!" returned one. "Stop your horses, and let the others go on!" The main party were at this juncture riding swiftly down a steep grade. The four horses were quietly reined in, and when the others were out of hearing, their noses were turned back up the canyon in the direction of Deadwood. "This will be an unhealthy job for us!" said one of the brothers, "should we ever meet Dick again." "Fear him not!" replied Alexander Filmore, with an oath. "If he ever crosses your path shoot him down like a dog, and I'll give you a thousand dollars for the work. The sooner he dies the better I'll be suited." He spoke in a tone of strongest hate--deepest rancor. CHAPTER IX. AT THE "MET."